


Epilogue

by largoindminor



Series: Advent Calendar 2015 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porny new year's epilogue to the advent calendar</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

Eighteen days. It’s been eighteen days since Sam kissed him in the kitchen. Sixteen since they both admitted how long they’ve wanted this. Nine days since their first fight. Well, their first _th_ _is_ _kind_ of fight. Eight since their first make up. The week following Christmas was a lazy one, spent lounging and kissing and doing actual normal people things, like seeing movies and taking advantage of post holidays sales. Dean never missed an opportunity to kiss Sam now, not only for the kiss itself but for the otherworldly glow that lights his brother’s face each time he does. It’s been far too long since Sam’s been in the habit of smiling those deep-dimpled, full face smiles of his and Dean was slowly becoming addicted, intent on keeping them on Sam’s face as much as possible.

They haven’t done anything but kiss in the nearly three weeks since this started, kiss and cuddle for long blissful hours, and Dean knows with a startling certainty that he could spend the rest of his life alternating chastely between Sam’s upper and lower lip and consider it a life well lived. So he’s not really expecting it when one of Sam’s giant hands wander towards the vicinity of third base during a commercial break smooch late that night.

Oh, no _groping_ or anything, Sam’s far too polite to do something like that without permission, but his hands creep around Dean’s lower back to stroke and squeeze, brush over his hips, grasping and pulling Dean closer. Like Sam’s testing the waters but not quite ready to jump all the way in. It’s exhilarating, like Dean’s fifteen again and making out with a girl for the first time, trying to gauge how much touch is ok, how far he can go, except it’s being done _to_ him, which is entirely new and different and he thinks he could sit here and let Sam play this game of chicken for all eternity and never tire of it.

It’s new year’s eve and they’d intended to flip from the Twilight Zone marathon over to network TV in time to watch the ball drop in Times Square, a tradition they upheld whenever possible, but somehow they seemed to completely miss it, because when Dean breaks away to check the time, it’s a quarter past midnight.

“’s after twelve. Happy new year, I guess.” He smiles and reaches towards the bottle of cheap bubbly on the table, “should crack ‘er open?”

Sam’s hand grabs his wrist to stop him and Dean looks over, surprised. “I’d, uh, rather not have any. ’s late and all and…” Sam trails off there and bites his lip, looks up at Dean through his thick dark lashes and Dean gets the distinct feeling he’s being seduced.

“Yeah, sure thing. Let’s, uh, wanna go to bed?”

* * *

Neither one of them are even a little bit tired and they both know it, and there’s a sort of buzzing in the air between them as they head down the hall and get ready for bed. Dean dons his usual sleep clothes, boxers and a white t-shirt, and crawls under the covers. When Sam climbs in a few minutes later, he’s stark naked and kissing Dean before Dean even has a chance to comment.

“This ok?” Sam mumbles into Dean’s lips, and damn, of _course_ it is, he hums an affirmative into Sam’s mouth and melts a little into the wall of warmth pressed up against him. “ _This_ ok?” Sam asks again, his hands reaching behind Dean to grasp a handful of his cotton clad ass and Dean can feel the hard length of Sam’s cock press up against his thigh.

“Sam, you ain’t gotta ask. It’s all ok.” Dean pulls back, because this feels serious all of sudden, and looks directly into his brother’s eyes, “Anything you want. Everything. You ain’t gotta ask,” he repeats, and he means it implicitly. Sam could ask to fuck him or choke him or take him on a killing spree and suck his dick over a pile of corpses and Dean knows deep in his soul and beyond any doubt that he’d say yes.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice sounds wrecked, his eyes pleading for something not quite defined and Dean vows to give it to him.

“Anything, baby. You wanna touch me,” Dean’s voice is low and sultry and when he moves to push Sam onto his back, kicks those long legs apart a little so he can slot between them, his cock brushes against Sam’s hip and the friction through the thin fabric ignites stars behind his eyes, “you want me to touch you? Let me, just let me…”

He slides his hand across the toned muscles of Sam’s abs and down the outside of his leg, rubs his knuckles up the impossibly soft skin of Sam’s inner thigh, inching them through the wiry wisps of hairs in the scorching hot crease of his groin, teasing.

“Dean,” Sam says again, almost a whisper, his voice quivering as much as those spread out thighs, “please.”

“I got you. Got you baby.” He kisses Sam right as the palm of his hand presses up the silken skin of Sam’s cock, swallows his moans and licks into his mouth for more. Sam’s hips buck under him when he wraps his hand around the head, slides back down and up again, achingly slow and Dean’s already addicted to the smooth sticky feel of Sam’s precome coated cock in his hand. He continues his strokes, slow and lazy, and kisses down Sam’s neck, nuzzles into the sweaty skin behind Sam’s ear and down to the thick muscle where neck meets shoulder. He can’t resist, sinks his teeth is deep for just a second before soothing over the bite with his tongue.

The sharp pain seems to trigger something in Sam, he groans loud and unabashed and reaches his hands around to tug at the waistband of Dean’s shorts. “Please. Feel you, too,” he pants, and Dean understands, presses one more kiss to Sam’s collarbone before kneeling back to pull his t-shirt over his head and kicking off his shorts. He takes a good long look at Sam from that position, and even in the relative dark it’s breathtaking. Sam’s legs spread wide to either side, his cock thick and flushed and leaking onto his toned belly, beautiful deep pink blush creeping across his chest and up his neck.

“You’re god damned gorgeous baby brother, you know that?” 

Dean lays back down on top of Sam, his hips stuttering as his cock slides against Sam’s in the mess of precome between them, “ _fuck,_ ” he breaths out. He rolls his hips, feels the sweet drag of Sam’s skin and hair against the sensitive underside of of his dick, feels the swollen, wet head of Sam’s cock bump against his own. He leans down more so they’re pressed tightly together, chest to groin, and puts his lips against Sam’s. They don’t kiss, just share air, breathe hot and wet into each other’s mouths as Dean continues the slow roll of his hips.

It’s bliss, Dean wants it to last forever, this slow dance between them, but the pressure builds low and tight in the base of his spine and he can’t help the steady increase in speed and pressure driving them closer to the edge. Everything feels too close and too hot, overwhelming, and Dean just wants _closer_ and _hotter_ still, chases after it like tumbling down a hill, free and fast and out of control.

Sam comes first, throws his head back and grips Dean tightly to him as his hips stutter and shake, comes hot and sticky between their stomachs. Dean’s not prepared for the sudden pulse of heat, the hot slickness of it, his arms completely give out beneath him, face pressed into Sam’s shoulder as he ruts against him, rhythm gone now as he chases his own release. Sam’s hands knead into the flesh of Dean’s ass, grinding them together and he thrusts up to meet each of Dean’s strokes, “Dean, Dean, Dean,” he chants over the shell of Dean’s ear as the after shocks of his orgasm continue to shudder through him, “fuck Dean. Love you. God.”

It’s the raw sound of Sam’s voice that does it, that or the way Sam’s finger brushes _just so_ down the cleft of his ass, and Dean goes stiff, can barely move as his cock pulses between them, pleasure sharp and warm and everywhere at once and he bites down again on Sam’s shoulder to stifle the scream that builds in his throat.

Dean lays there boneless across Sam for long minutes, they both doze a little maybe before Dean reluctantly and carefully peels them apart, gets up to fetch a warm washcloth and a glass of cold water. He cleans them both off, Sam’s spent dick gives a half hearted jerk at the attention but Dean’s pretty sure they both need a couple of hours _at least_ before anything else goes on down there. When he finally crawls back in bed and pulls the covers over them, Sam snuggles up beside him, his sleep warm body molding like clay to Dean’s side

“Holy shit,” Sam says with a small laugh.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. Because yeah, holy shit.

“Love you,” Sam says again, pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s cheekbone.

Dean turns to his side and pulls Sam closer, kisses his forehead, “Sam I- me too,” he says, then quieter, “love you.”

“Happy n'year, Dean,” Sam mumbles, already mostly sleeping.

“It’s my favorite year so far, sweetheart.” Dean smiles at how true it is, drifts asleep feeling happier than he’s ever imagined possible.

**Author's Note:**

> also [here](). thanks for reading!


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